Demon Blood
by FandomCaptive
Summary: "I've got demon blood in me, Dean. This disease pumping through my veins and I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean. I'm a whole new level of freak" *TRIGGER WARNING* Self Harm. Angst!Sam. Worried!Dean. (AU: Sam's about 14, Dean 18)


"I've got demon blood in me, Dean. This disease pumping through my veins and I can't ever rip it out or scrub it clean. I'm a whole new level of freak" *TRIGGER WARNING* Self Harm. Angst!Sam. Worried!Dean. (Sam's about 14, Dean 18)

~Demon Blood~

"_Freak." _

"_Idiot." _

"_Demon."_

"_Monster" _

His hands shook as the words flooded his mind. He meant what he said to Dean, he was a freak, he was more than a freak, he was a demon. The blood of Azazel rushed through his veins and all he could do was drain it.

He stumbled to the bathroom, being as quiet as he could so that he didn't wake his sleeping brother. He reached to grab his razor, quickly disconnecting the blade from the metal handle before pulling his shirt up and over his head.

"_Demon." _

"_Freak."_

"_Monster." _

The blade slid swiftly over his skin, causing thin lines of blood to spring from his chest and stomach. He no longer allowed the blade to drift to his arms after a couple close calls with Dean. He couldn't let Dean know what happened after he went to bed. The normal part of Sam's routine that nobody could ever know about. He feared that if anybody knew, they would do something to stop him. They'd take his blades and leave the demon blood trapped in his veins.

He ran the blade over the scratch marks from his own nails, the scars from when the blade was pushed too deep, and the bruises from recent hunts. He figured he deserved each and every mark on his body.

The marks from himself when he couldn't stop the thoughts, the words, that reminded him that every drop of blood he spilt was another part of the demon he could rid himself of.

The marks that came from carelessness on his part, not paying enough attention to the hunt, letting things distract him when he should have kept his mind on the task at hand.

The marks from his dad, caused because he was just an idiot child. He couldn't do anything right and fully deserved the times where John did something hard enough to leave faint scars.

As the thoughts faded finally, Sam let out a soft sigh at the blissful silence and started to clean out the razor blade. It wasn't until he was finished cleaning and putting the razor back together that he realized that his _demon_ blood was soaking through the bathroom rug. Cursing, he bent down to grab the rug from the floor. It was far too stained red to be hidden. He let it drop to the floor again so that he could clean himself up before he ruined anything else.

After cleaning his chest up and stopping the flowing blood, he put his shirt back on and stumbled back to his bed, trying to sleep before the words came rushing back to drown his thoughts.

"Sammy."

Sam covered his ears as a voice entered his sleep.

"Sam."

The voice sounded urgent and Sam couldn't figure out why

"Samuel William Winchester. Wake up," there was a pause, "please." Strong arms shook Sam hard, leaving Sam sitting up and gasping at the sudden pain in his abdomen.

It took him a second before realizing that Dean was sitting in his bed, his face flushed and hair tousled.

"What, Dean? What's so important that you needed to wake me up at," Sam reached over and checked the small alarm clock, "5 in the morning."

To Sam's horror, Dead held up a certain white and red rug.

"Did you forget to tell me a certain important detail, Sam? Maybe something concerning the hunt yesterday?"

Sam shrugged, but said nothing.

"Where'd it get you? How come you didn't tell me about it?" Dean continued.

He was met with another silence while Sam dropped his gaze to the sheets.

"Sammy, answer me. Why did I find a blood stained rug when I went in to use the frickin' bathroom?"

After one more stretch of time filled with nothing but silence, Dean moved around the bed to where Sam was sitting and started to peel back the hotel sheets.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam asked, his voice taking on a small hint of fear.

"If you aren't going to tell me, I'll have to find wherever it got you. I can't trust that you patched yourself up right."

"Dean, I'm fine," Sam tried, "stop worrying."

"Then show me."

Sam's eyes went downwards again, causing Dean to let out a quiet scoff before he continued peeling back sheets and blankets.

"No," Sam protested, swatting Dean's hand away from the hem of his shirt. "Just leave me alone."

"Sam. Either you do it, or I do."

Sam's eyes started to well with desperate, and panicked, tears. "Please, Dean, I'm okay. Really."

"Sammy, if you were okay, you wouldn't be so upset about this," Dean's own eyes took on compassion as he talked. "So I need you to take off your shirt."

Sam dropped his head once more, and although Dean would never mention it, he noticed a few stray tears drip slowly down Sam's cheek.

Dean gave Sam a minute before reaching for the hem of his shirt again, this time he didn't do anything, just let Dean pull the shirt up and over his head.

Dean drew a sharp breath as he took in all of the marks on Sam's, his Sammy's, abdomen. Places where Sam's fingernails broke skin, leaving angry marks behind. Places where Sam's hand slipped, dragging the blade of whatever he used away from the straight path it was previously on. He saw thin, pale lines, marks that had healed, and he saw welted, and dark lines. Some not even fully cleaned, leaving small streaks of blood.

Dean quickly wiped at his eyes, how could his Sammy go through something as awful as this without his knowing?

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered, quiet enough that Dean wouldn't have heard him if the rest of the room wasn't silent.

Dean pulled Sam into a hug, "there's nothing to be sorry about. It's going to be okay Sam, I promise."

"But Dee," Sam murmured, using the name that Dean hadn't heard in years, "what if," his voice got stuck in his throat, "what if it won't be okay. What if everything's stuck like this."

"Sammy, everything will be okay. I promise. I won't let anything else happen to you." Dean whispered softly.

"Nothing else."

**Heya! This is the first thing I've ever published and let me tell you, the ****anxiety I'm feeling right now is insane. :) Thanks for reading! **


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